Stolen Innocence
by chocolatebrownies14
Summary: Santana and Brittany struggle to deal with the unexpected death of their teenage daughter
1. Chapter 1

**author's note: controversial/ real life problems seem to interest me the most- and I think Brittany and Santana's diverse emotions are perfect for this- so I decided to write it out.**

**good luck xo**

...

_"It's often difficult for those who are lucky enough to have never experienced what true depression is to imagine a life of complete hopelessness, emptiness and fear." -Susan Polis Schutz_

...

_Prologue_

Santana sat at the edge of the hospital bed, letting the image of her daughter's sweet and innocent face, now bruised and pale, permanently engrave itself in her mind. She gazed down at the unmoving body with a blank expression; not quite sure how to process the day's events all in one sitting. The happiness said she had once felt, now replaced with sorrow and bitterness, as if the previous fourteen years of Sophia's life had meant nothing, had never existed.

Brittany sat across the room, the weight of everything becoming too unbearable. She couldn't look at her wife, or her daughter, because it was too painful; too heart-wrenching to see the horror and brokenness in Santana's eyes, and the lifelessness in Sophia's. Their little girl, the sunshine of their life, gone in an instant, without as much as an explanation as to why it had happened or what she had done to deserve such an unfortunate fate.

xxx

"We have to go," Santana stated, emotionless, from behind the dark, oversized Chanel sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose. "Or we're going to be late."

Brittany tore her gaze away from the large family portrait in the foyer. It was last year's Christmas photo, her and Santana positioned in front of the grand tree sitting under the large chandelier, perched in between the double staircase, with Sophia and Alexander sitting in front of them, all four smiling brightly. Brittany remembered the day as if it were yesterday; and she desperately wished that it was.

Brittany briefly checked her appearance in the crystal mirror hanging on the wall, a birthday gift she had received from her mother a few years ago. She felt some relief; her under-eye circles had been concealed for the most part, and it would be near impossible to tell that she spent the previous night crying herself to exhaustion, or sleep, unless you looked closely.

"Ok." She finally responded, her voice hoarse and raspy from being silent for so long. "Let's go."

...

The ride to the quaint, private church didn't take long, which if considered in any other occasion would've been marvelous, since they were usually pushing it for time. But this wasn't any other occasion, and Santana couldn't help but feel furious with their driver for making them arrive in such a short period of time.

She brushed the man off when he offered his help, and climbed out of the limo on her own, somewhat gracefully in her five-inch Louboutin pumps. Without a trace of guilt, she walked ahead of her wife with the mindset that the sooner she made it inside, the easier it would become to sit through the grueling service, which Quinn had insisted on planning.

Quinn and Mercedes were waiting at the doors, just like they had insisted they would be. Santana internally rolled her eyes, feeling almost annoyed with her friends.

Almost was the key word, because she hadn't felt anything in days.

"Santana," Quinn offered a soft smile to her best friend, "You look great." She then frowned, noticing the absence of a certain blonde. "Where's Britt?"

Santana shrugged. She had nothing to say to them, nothing she wanted to say to them. She knew- knew it would've been polite to thank them for everything they had done; for putting together a beautiful service for her baby girl, but no. Instead she shrugged and chose to stay silent, averting her gaze towards the multiple rows of wooden pews placed in front of her- a lavender, coral, and baby blue bouquet resting on each one. Sophia's favorite colors.

"I'm here." Brittany's soft voice caused Santana to tense, and she hated herself for it. "Thank you, Quinn. And you too, Mercedes."

"It was no problem, really." Mercedes placed her hand on the blonde's forearm, letting her touch linger for a few moments. "If you need anything- anything at all, you call us Brittany. I'm serious." She said this quietly, not meant for Santana to hear.

Brittany nodded but did not respond verbally, and accepted the hug that Quinn was pulling her in for. She allowed the shorter blonde to embrace her, the lack of physical touch in days having taken it's toll on her.

...

The service didn't last long. Alexander arrived soon after his mothers with Brittany's parents, whom he had been staying with for most of the week. Brittany's mother, Susan, had suggested the arrangement, claiming that the current atmosphere in their home wouldn't be appropriate for an eight year old. Santana had agreed.

Mercedes and Quinn gave their speeches, Brittany's parents and Santana's mother offered a few words, before returning to their seats, too overcome with emotion to continue. When asked if they had anything to say, Santana immediately denied, as did Brittany, and then it was over.

Santana didn't cry, and aside from the few, silent whimpers on her part, neither did Brittany.

...

The ride to the cemetery was quiet and tense, almost a replica of the ride to the church.

They had chosen a fairly large, white marble tombstone. Underneath the name Sophia _Isabella Lopez-Pierce_, engraved in the large space was _Mommy and Mama's Number_ _One Girl, We Love You So Much. 2000-2014._

...

Brittany had muffled a sob when she crouched down to set the bouquet of flowers on the glistening wooden casket, along with Sophia's favorite stuffed bear-one she's had since she was born, Sir Hobblekins; what his name became after he lost his leg in an unfortunate accident involving the family's dog, Louis.

Brittany had glanced over her shoulder at Santana, feeling a small sense of bewilderment and betrayal when her wife chose to stay back, refusing to say her goodbyes in front of the small crowd of people, containing only their most intimate friends and family members.

_I'm sorry,_ Brittany mouthed as a few select tears fell down her face and onto the casket, where her hand was currently resting. _So, so sorry, baby girl_. She shuddered, fighting back the heart-wrenching sobs that were becoming more and more difficult to contain, and stepped away, signaling to Finn and Mike that she was ready.

...

Brittany wasn't sure what was more horrifying; the sight of her daughter's casket being lowered six feet into the ground, or Santana finally reaching her breaking point, hysterically fighting Puck's large frame off of her body, as she sobbed and attempted to stop them.


	2. Chapter 2

**leave me your thoughts :)**

_..._

_"Alcohol can be a bittersweet escape; until you awake the next morning and realize your problems haven't went anywhere."_

_-Unknown_

...

"We should go out."

It was a late Saturday evening, Santana had been busying herself in her office for the better part of the day, while Brittany did some work around the house; the usual. Brittany had been in the middle of making herself a plain turkey sandwich for dinner when there was a knock at the door, and not having visitors in days, she was surprised to say the least.

Quinn, Puck, Mercedes and Sam walking into the foyer with soft smiles and hugs was a bittersweet surprise. She loved their friends, she really did, but the constant sympathy her and her wife continued to receive was becoming irritating.

They didn't want their blind-sided sympathy; they had no idea how it felt to lose a child. They still had their three sons and two daughters at home.

Mercedes had asked where Santana was, and offered Brittany a sad smile once she received the repeated answer of in her office. Puck nodded his head towards the staircase and informed the two women that he would go get her, and to meet them in the dining room in a few. Quinn looped her arm through Brittany's and smiled at her husband, before leading her friend through the silent house with Mercedes; choosing to sit at the opposite end of the table that sat twelve, knowing who belonged in the fifth seat on the right.

Quinn's suggestion hadn't surprised either woman, knowing how concerned their friends had been over these past few days. Puck had turned down any offers for filming, Quinn put a hold on her photography business, Mercedes canceled any performance gigs she had previously booked, and Finn and Rachel had flown down from New York to offer their support, and were currently staying with the Puckerman's.

"When?" Santana questioned, glancing between both couples with a quirked brow.

"Tonight," Puck stated. "Everyone's coming out, and I think you both deserve it."

"Ok." Brittany agreed, barely paying any mind to the idea; only convinced that it was a possibility to take some of the dull ache away. "We'll go change and meet you guys back down here in a few."

...

Five, seven, fourteen drinks? Santana wasn't sure, considering she had lost count awhile ago. Brittany was next to her, drinking away her own sorrows; her own pain and bitterness.

Before tonight, Santana had prided herself on not resulting to drinking; not turning to alcohol to temporarily take away her hurt. But fucking Quinn Fabray had the brilliant idea to hit the cozy bar across town; how could she refuse?

"Santana," Quinn's gentle voice tore Santana away from her hazy thoughts, as she rested the palm of her hand against Santana's bare shoulder. "Maybe you should slow down..."

"I'm fine." Santana slurred, pushing Quinn's hand away. She didn't want to be touched; she hadn't been touched in days.

Quinn sighed but nodded, deciding not to push her. Not tonight at least; knowing both her and Brittany needed some type of release, even if the drunken haze only lasted for a few hours.

As the night went on, the consumption of alcohol increased; to the point where Brittany had stumbled into one of the bar stools when she attempted to stand, only to be caught by Puck's strong arms, who had, luckily, been standing behind her.

"We need to get them home, Q." Puck stated as he slipped his arm around Brittany's waist; who seemed to be only half-consious.

"I know," Quinn agreed; her own arms wrapping around Santana's slouched shoulders. "Take Britt with you and drive Santana's car back to their place, I'll drive ours and meet you there."

"Ok." Puck nodded and gently shook the blonde in his arms. "Britt, come on, we gotta get you home."

"'Kay." Brittany mumbled as she leaned into Puck's side, relying on him to do most of the walking.

"You guys need some help?" Sam questioned, both him and Mercedes appearing beside the four as he held the door open for their friends.

Puck shook his head, carefully placing Brittany's limp body in the passenger seat. "We've got it man, thanks though."

"Q?" Mercedes then asked and held the green-eyed blonde's purse for her as she mimicked her husband's actions, except with Santana.

"No, I got it Cedes," Quinn offered the darker woman a weak smile, "I'll call you once we get them home."

"Ok. Don't forget," Mercedes raised a brow as she returned the black Marc Jacobs clutch into Quinn's freshly manicured hands. "I have no problem with driving down to your houses at four in the morning."

Puck chuckled and nodded. "We know Cedes, we'll call. I promise."

Mercedes slowly nodded, seemingly accepting that as an answer- before standing on the curb with her head resting on Sam's shoulder; watching the two cars drive away.

...

"I don-sleep here, Q." Santana frowned as Puck carefully laid her down on the soft mattress of their bed, in which she had almost forgotten the feel of.

"What?" Quinn's brows furrowed and she glanced to Puck, who just shook his head and shrugged. "This is your bedroom, Santana. Of course you sleep here."

"No," Brittany's voice joined in on the conversation and Quinn was surprised; both from the answer, and also because she was ninety-nine percent sure that Brittany had passed out awhile ago. "San sleeps in her 'ffice." She slurred.

Quinn frowned. "They need to talk to someone," She mumbled to Puck. "They're ruining their marriage."

"Q, you can't do everything for them." Puck shook his head sadly. "They're going to have to figure these things out on their own. We aren't their parents."

"I know," Quinn stated. "But I'm worried."

They stayed for a little while longer, waiting until Brittany and Santana fell asleep, or they thought they fell asleep, before quietly leaving the bedroom to return to their own home.

"Sa-San," Brittany turned almost fifteen minutes later, facing Santana's back. "Sanny."

"What, B?" Santana grumbled; barely awake enough to form a proper sentence as she laid flat on her back, side-eyeing her wife.

"Was it our fault?"

"Wha-" Santana paused, and then she realized what Brittany was referring to; and the previous four and a half hours at the bar became a useless blur as the ache returned to her chest. "Goodnight, Brittany." She mumbled, tightening the blankets around her body as the room's temperature seemed to drop.

Santana forced her eyes shut and willed her drunken brain to turn off; blatantly ignoring Brittany's quiet whimpers from the opposite side of the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

"_There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds."_

_-Laurell K. Hamilton_

...

It had been a week since the funeral, and both women had continued on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

Santana had the mindset that if she didn't pay any attention to it, then it wouldn't seem real. So, she locked herself in her office from dawn to dusk, continuously working on her presentations and power points for work, not bothering to eat a decent meal or gather a healthy amount of sleep.

It wasn't important. Nothing seemed to be anymore.

Brittany wasn't Santana though, so the way she chose to handle her grief was somewhat different. Whenever she was forced to go upstairs, for whatever reason, she would take the right staircase to avoid walking past her bedroom. It was still nearly impossible for them to say the name aloud.

Santana slept in her office. Their bedroom was no longer _theirs_, and was now _Brittany's_.

Brittany continued to cry herself to sleep night after night, waiting until the house was completely silent before breaking down; curling into herself as she held Santana's pillow tightly to her chest and sobbed, openly and brokenly.

...

When Santana had suggested for Alexander to visit for a few days, Brittany had perked at the idea. Their son, whom they scarcely saw anymore, had called the previous day, asking if he could come home yet.

Brittany held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut, unwelcome and unwanted thoughts invading her mind, as she heard Sophia's soft voice asking the same question.

"Do we need to pick him up?" Brittany had asked finally, after several moments of silence and the feeling of Santana's eyes on her, waiting.

"No," Santana shook her head, "Your dad offered to drop him off."

"Ok." Brittany nodded. They could handle this.

...

"Mama!" Alexander exclaimed and ran straight into Santana's open arms as she lifted him, peppering soft kisses to every inch of his lightly-freckled face. "I missed you." He whispered into his mother's neck, while tightening his grip on her, almost afraid that she might leave him again.

"I missed you more, baby boy." Santana combed her fingers through his long, golden blonde curls as her eyes became clouded with two week's worth of unshed tears. But none threatened to fall.

Alexander released his hold on his mother and allowed her to set him back against the marbled floor of the foyer with ease. He then turned to Brittany, smiling widely at the sight of the blonde as he ran to her, like he had many times before.

It was only seconds before he had reached her, but because Santana had carried both of their children they were almost identical, besides the hair color. Sophia favored Santana in that department, taking the Latina's hair color; while Alexander's was similar to Brittany's.

Sophia's face flashed in Brittany's mind and she gasped, pushing the young boy away once he got within arms reach. Alexander stumbled backwards a few feet, but managed to keep his balance. He stared at his blonde mother with sad and confused eyes; and Brittany, being horrified with herself, immediately left the room, running out the back door in silence.

"Come on baby, let's go get hot chocolate from the diner down the street." Santana suggested as she placed her hand on her son's shoulder, gazing down at him with half-empty eyes.

Alexander frowned, turning his head in the direction that Brittany had disappeared into only moments before. "But mommy-"

"She'll be ok." Santana brushed it off and grabbed onto his hand, leading him towards the large, oak doors. "Let's go." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

...

Horror. Hate. Shock. A brief summary of the type of emotions that Brittany was currently feeling for herself; for Santana; for Alexander; for Sophia.

Sophia, Sophia, Sophia.

Santana and Brittany had never been more proud; she had just received her final grades for the semester, all A's. The varsity cheerleading squad, which she had been apart of, made it to state; coming out strong in the top 5.

Brittany would never forget the day she came home with her end of the semester report card, only a few weeks before it happened; the biggest smile on her face as she informed her mothers that she had brought up her nearly failing math grade to a solid ninety-two.

_"Mommy! Mama!" Sophia yelled as she ran through the front door of the Lopez-Pierce family home, her long, dark hair flying behind her as she ran into the spacious kitchen, almost slipping on her UGG-cladded feet._

_"Soph, slow down before you break something." Santana chuckled from her place in front of the island, where she was making the usual after-school snacks._

_"Yeah, like the dog." Alexander laughed and nodded towards Louis, who was half asleep near the stainless-steel refrigerator. Sophia rolled her eyes and paused, playfully shoving her younger brother._

_"What is it, sweetheart?" Brittany smiled and ushered her daughter forward, gently kissing her cheek once she was within reach._

_Sophia stared at the blonde with a blank expression, before seemingly remembering what she had been so excited about in the first place and dropped her Vera Bradley book bag on the floor, crouching down as best as she could in her skinny jeans. Moments later, she held a single paper in the air triumphantly, waving it proudly in front of Brittany's face._

_Brittany laughed but took the paper, carefully reading over each subject and each letter grade, her eyebrows raising in surprise when she found each one not only to be passing, but all A's. "How did you pull this off?" She asked, genuinely curious._

_"Pull what off?" Santana questioned and wiped her hands against her own jeans, before walking around the island and peering over her wife's shoulder. "Wow baby girl, all A's huh?"_

_"I did extra credit for math, and went to tutoring to make up my last test grade." Sophia explained with a sheepish smile._

_"Well, we're proud of you." Brittany stated while poking her daughter's freckled nose. "Hang this up on the fridge next to Alex's, San."_

_"Will do." Santana nodded and took the paper from Brittany, placing it directly beside their son's._

Brittany buried her head into the palms of her hands; crying silently, crying aloud, as she desperately willed for some of the pain to go away.

_Why_ did she do it?

...

"Can we take flowers to Sophia tomorrow?"

It was an innocent, genuinely curious question brought up by Alexander later that evening at the dinner table, where the family had been enjoying the large pepperoni pizza that Santana had ordered a half hour ago.

Santana's hand froze, halfway to reaching for her glass of wine and she blinked, patiently awaiting for the shock of hearing the name spoken in their house to subside.

Brittany's eyes dropped to her own untouched plate of pizza and she whimpered quietly, barely audible for Santana or Alexander to hear.

Santana cleared her throat and regained her composure, taking the glass in her hand and allowing the red substance to flow down her throat. "No." She answered, before focusing back on the article she had been reading on her iPad.

"But, why? Grandma and I go there every-"

"I said no." Santana snapped and slammed her glass against the table, causing both Brittany and Alexander to jump. "Go to bed, Alexander."

Alexander glanced down at the half-slice of pizza still laying on his plate and chewed on his bottom lip,

conflicted on what to do. "But I-"

"_Now_." Santana hissed and pointed towards the staircase, the anger evident in her dark eyes.

The younger blonde's eyes filled with tears as his bottom lip trembled, not used to being yelled at by his mother. He slowly pushed out his chair and hopped down, running out of the now tense and silent dining room, and up to his former bedroom.

...

The next day, Alexander called Susan Pierce on the cell phone his mothers had given him for emergencies and requested to come back, not wanting to stay any longer. Santana and Brittany had let him go; offering a small wave and a silent goodbye as he walked down the cobblestone steps to John Pierce's black BMW.


End file.
